If Sam Started Obeying
by KilianaFelagund
Summary: What if Sam actually did half the things Dean teased him about... warning for some chick-flick fluff moments. No slash. (ch.5 Revenge is Bitter-Sweet - Sam's revenge) (All stories can be viewed as one-shots, but they are related loosely.)
1. You gonna tuck me in, Samantha?

AN: So sorry guys. I have a broken computer, no wi-fi and a ton of graphic art homework that can only be done on my broken computer and needs my missing wi-fi. I know this is short. I thought it would be really funny if Sam started actually taking Dean's retorts. This thought just cracked me up and I love a little bit of brotherly care.

Shoot me ideas I'd love to do more, maybe from Dean's POV. All short drabbles. All fun. I have a second chapter pending.

For those of you following my other stories. I have NOT forgotten you. I hand HUGE plans, and please reread the first two sentences I wrote in the author's note. I will be posting as soon as I can.

Thanks.

Kiliana

* * *

Dean has a habit of getting hurt. I know it's not really his fault – or mine for that matter. If I am going to shove that big hunk of sticky blame somewhere, I would have to plop it on Dad's head and leave it there. But then, it really isn't, or wasn't, his fault. SO... I would really have to shove it at fate, or karma. But that gives absolutely no satisfaction, so Dad's fault it remains.

Anyway. Dean thinks for some stupid ingrained reason, that he has to _always _step between me and absolutely everything else. Last month it was the ghost in Texas, and his brains (what little he has) swishing around in his noggin. He has the hardest freaking head in the history of mankind, but even he is subject to concussions when said head is introduced up close and personal to a solid headstone.

Tonight, it was the werewolf on First Street. Slashed up chest, twisted ankle, and dislocated shoulder. Took me hours to finally force him into the bed.

"Whatever, princess. You gonna tuck me in too and read me a story." He snaps at me as I dump him with my usual care onto his bed.

"Shut-up." Is the proper response I believe. Tomorrow he will be fine.

I love this bed. I really do! Call me batshit crazy or whatever you want. It is a motel bed and it is hard and it is probably the least clean object in this room. But my body has completely melted.

I hear my brother in the dark shifting around to try and get comfortable. He is grunting in pain ever so often. Stubborn jerk. "Stubborn jerk." I add out loud so he doesn't forget what I think.

"Bitch." He whines back under his breath.

He always does this. Complain and fight and whine. _Suck it up Samantha. Are you gonna kiss it too and make it better. Just give me a Band-Aid, mother-hen. What the hell, San, gonna tuck me in too. _

I couldn't begin to tell you how many times he has said that to me. He used to do it for me growing up, the nighttime story curled together under the covers.

Hah. I think suddenly in satisfaction. I know I am smiling like an idiot, but he can't see, yet. So on goes the lamp.

"What are you doing?" he grumbles, still very much awake thank you, from the other bed.

"Getting something." I reply and fish around for a while in my bag. There it is, _The Legend of Sleepy Hollow_. I got this just the other week when we replenished our jean stash at a thrift store. Sauntering over to Dean's bed I make a show of pulling up the blankets and mummifying him despite the glower that is likely to catch me on fire any moment.

"What are you doing?" he growls.

"Tucking you in. Duh." I reply before flopping down beside him and picking up the book.

"Sam, what the hell are you doing!"

Okay, so not a question that time, I can deal with that. "Look. You asked if I was going to tuck you in and read to you. So I figured I might as well."

I think I might still be surprised that I have not spontaneously combusted yet.

"Once upon a time." I begin and throw my arm around his body to draw him in close. He is as stiff as a board but probably in enough pain that he isn't willing to try and push away. I am so dead tomorrow...

...Might as well go out with a bang, right?"

He whines for a while. Grumbling and calling me names.

Typical.

Then, little by little as I stubbornly continue to read, he slowly begins to relax. He might _actually_ be listening to the story. You learn something new about a person everyday, right?

When Crane goes missing and the broken pumpkin is found. A soft snore escapes my tough-as-nails brother. His head is pillowed on my shoulder and his warm body is pressed firmly against my side. I shut the book and set it aside. Every time, for as long as I remember, Dean would scoff at me. Teasing me about reading stories at bedtime. I still remember him doing the same for me when we were children.

My brother. My big, strong, caring, come-what-may brother.

He bulled his way around the pain of his own stolen childhood. I can tell I am probably all teary now, now that I finally can clearly see how broken he really is. And yes, that is all on my father who was too damn stubborn to tuck in his sons and give them the love they needed.

I was given everything by a brother who had been given nothing.

What a little gift was a story, I had taken it for granted, as usual with my remarkable brother. I rest my own head on his and close my eyes.

"Thanks, Sammy." He murmurs causing my heart to jump.

"Thought you were asleep." I answer.

"Hmmm." He breaths and settles deeper. "You're still a girl." He mumbles at last.

I laugh. Damn straight.

I think I might be reading bedtime stories again in the future. But right now, I'm sleeping on my brother's shoulder.

"In a great green room." I whisper as sleep creeps closer. In my head I hear it in his six year old voice.

Dean chuckles. "Good night noises everywhere." He replies his voice deadened by slumber.

"You skipped a few pages." I retort.

"Whatever." This time, he really is asleep.

fin.

* * *

Spare a moment to make my day. Reviews = love.

Kiliana


	2. What, are we going to have to hug now?

Heehee I am glad you guys like this. believe me I could use inspiration. typical Dean isms you want to hear Sam obey.

Thanks

Kiliana

* * *

Dean groaned… again.

Possibly for the three hundredth time this morning. Yep. Definitely for the three hundredth… scratch that. Three hundredth and one.

"Shut up Sam." He snaps at me. _I didn't say ANYTHING!_

I roll my eyes back at him and duck into the bathroom.

"Hey, you're supposed to be getting us out of here." He bellows at my retreating back.

"I AM!" I bellow back. "Just let me hit the head alright? I'll won't be able to get us out of here as fast if I am focused on not leaking."

He groans again.

Three hundred and two, at the very least.

It's really a dumb sounding hunt, but apparently Dean will take anything at this point.

"What is your problem, we haven't even been here for three days yet." I snap at him as I pack. Apparently he was packed hours ago and now he is pacing a cavern the size of the Grand Canyon in the center of the poor motel floor.

Carpet, poor, poor carpet. It didn't ask for this life. It doesn't deserve to be put to this…

"Sam. Pack!"

Well sheesh your majesty! I'm moving already.

The drive is boring. Apparently, Dean is so antsy that he isn't even blabbing. What?... Sometimes my brother makes absolutely no sense

Well, it all makes sense ten hours later.

…

Ten long dubious hell-filled hours later.

...

The hunt was by no means a boring one. Apparently Casper didn't fancy being burned, and some moron went and planted him in a locked steel box. So while Dean "lovingly" distracted the monster, I burned the body. Well, I burned it eventually.

He got tossed, several times – big surprise there.

Now, here we are stuck in another lousy motel room and I just discovered that my brother has been hiding a gash the size of the Royal Gorge on his back. It is five seconds away from infected.

"Dean what the Hell do you think you are doing hiding a gash like this from me?"

"Whatever, Sam. I'm fine."

"Seriously!" I pace for a minute. "You're an idiot!"

"You're a girl." He growls back.

"Well at least girls have more brains then you!" I shout. "It is infected Dean! This is not good. And where the hell did you get it!"

He looks away.

Bad news there.

"Dean." I throw in a hefty load of Daddy Winchester warning into my voice. "Talk to me man."

"Leave it Sam." He warns.

"No! Where. Did. You. Get. Hurt." I say.

When he looks back up I take a step back at the sheer rage glittering in his eyes at me. "Two weeks ago. _Someone_ went ghost-crazy and flipped loyalties. I'm fine!" I sink down to the bed in stunned shock and Dean proves his point by slamming the door on his way outside – no shoes, no shirt, no problem, seems to apply to him at the moment.

My world is reeling. I did that. I DID that to my brother! With a gasp of pain I shut my eyes trying to replay the moments that I spent ghost possessed. I see my brother facing me with a salt loaded gun.

_"Sam." He warns frantically. "Please don't do this."_

_"Why." I sneer nastily. "Because you said so, you're the older brother? You're a waste Dean! You and your stupid vendetta!"_

_"Sam." His voice cracks slightly._

_"What." I laugh mercilessly. "Your life is pointless. All you have ever done is take care of me. You don't have an existence other than that, and I don't need you! I don't need you nor do I want you. I hate you Dean. I hate your mollycoddling ways and I hate the fact that you hold me back. I don't need you!" _

_I watch myself walk closer and closer and smash my fist into Dean's face. Dean stumbled not quite able to force himself to shoot his brother. The knife flicked out of my belt as I tackled my fallen brother. _

Dean had managed to shake me off and burn the fugly, releasing me from his hold. But he hadn't said anything sense and seriously couldn't sit still. Before this moment I didn't even know I had hurt him. I hurt him though, more than I could possibly understand, and not just physically.

Anyone who knows my brother knows that he is the master of shoving away hurt and burying it in a deep dark seemingly-bottomless pit. Nothing anyone ever says phases him. Or so he wishes we would believe.

So I sit and wait. It doesn't take him long to return. It is cold outside and he left his shirt… saying nothing about the blood that is certainly chilling on his back.

I wait for him to shower and settle down enough for me to approach him again. He finally sits down across me and shifts uncomfortably.

"Would you like me to stitch that?" I ask at last. I keep my voice soft knowing that deep down inside he still subconsciously associates me with the injury.

He simply tosses me the stitching kit and rolls over. So I set to work, but as long as I have my brother on a thread, I'm not gonna just let him get off easy.

"I'm sorry." I begin.

"Oh please!" he groans. (Number 357 I think).

"No, I really am and you need to hear me say it. I need you Dean! I need you more than I need anyone. You have saved my life so many times. You are my older brother and I wouldn't change that for my life."

"Sam." He grumbles. "I know it wasn't you. We are all good."

"No. I mean it, Dean. I feel safe because I know you are always there. I am not afraid to show weakness because I know you will take care of me." I tie the last stitch and he rolls onto his back to stare at me.

"Fine."

"Dean. I serious." I snap.

"I got it Samantha. Write me a poem while you are at it."

"Don't just ignore me!"

"What do you want? Are we going to have to hug now?"

I think I might have a twisted mind, and if I do, I got it from Dean, so he deserves it. I grin.

Reaching out I drag my hunky older brother up into my arms and crush him into my chest. He is far to shocked to move! I can hear the wheels grinding in him mind – they sound a little rusty and I laugh.

"Safm." He mumbles muffled into my shoulder.

"Don't say anything." I retort tightening the hug.

Dean's strong wrists clench on my arms and begin to pull. "Freaking girl!" he growls out wrenching his head out of my shirt and trying to get it away from my neck.

I know I am smothering him, but he is not helping by pulling away.

"Hey, you asked if we could hug." I retort still tightening my grip on his bare wounded back carefully avoiding the stitches.

"Did not." And he actually sounds insulted. He gives me a particularly rough shove so I drag him with me down to the bed. There is a moment of flailing arms and kicking feet before I get to the top of the pile - thanks to his blood weakened state - and he goes completely still beneath me.

"Sam." He states cautiously.

"I am so sorry that I hurt you." I spew hurriedly before he can cut me off again. "Please believe me, I didn't mean a word, that was the ghost."

He awkwardly pats my shoulder and stops fighting against me.

"It's all good." And for the first time in over a week I believe him.

I finally let him go, much to his pleasure. He ruffles my hair and mumbles girl _again!_

I grin and tape up his back.

We are all good.

He groans again but I have forgotten the count now…

Fin.

* * *

Hey, let me know what you want to hear next. I have only one more idea for this right now.

Kiliana.


	3. Roses are Red

Here you all go folks: Roses are red.

Second part to the last chapter but fully capable of standing on its own.

I'm having fun and these are really easy to write between school and work

Keep giving me ideas if you have any.

~Kiliana

* * *

Roses are red,

Dean is an ass

Some people (not me)

Can write poems with class

….

Dean has been giving me the evil eye for a while now. Seems to think I am up to something snickering over here on my bed like I have been for the past hour or so… he is right, as usual.

It's funny actually that people think Dean is so thick, he is one of the sharpest people I have ever met, yeah – he knows I am up to something.

Due to our glorious and full-fledged chick-flick-of-all-chick-flicks moment yesterday, and Dean's snide comment about poetry…

So here I am stuck at Roses and Asses.

I suck at poetry, it's amazing actually. The first brainiac thing I have been bad at. Or maybe I am not inspired at the moment, I'll have to concentrate. Although Dean watching – and commentating at – the TV is highly distracting and bad for muses.

So I am stuck here with roses. Roses! Dean will love me for the roses!

….

Violets are blue,

Roses are red,

Dean would say,

I'm sick in my head.

….

Well, that sucks too. Though I fully believe it to be true.

So maybe I should send Dean for coffee…

"Dean."

"What." He grunts as usual. Really that should be a talent. Dean grunting…

"Can you go get dinner, or coffee, or something. You're being really distracting."

Dean rolls his eyes at me. Again, as usual. But he goes anyway. Now back to my poetry.

Roses are so done to death…

…

Dear Dean, within your heart lies the secrets of a thousand kingdoms,

The silence of the stars and…

Yeah right! The secrets of a thousand kingdoms, what the hell am I thinking!

…. I'm not apparently.

…

Let me tell you a secret,

It's about the hidden life of the silent guardian.

He doesn't know I know his tale,

So listen close, listen now to me.

…

"Yes." I know no one is here to listen to me, but this is going to be spectacular. Can't wait to see his face.

….

Dean doesn't disappoint… ever!

"Seriously Sam!" he yells in horror! "This is what you have been wasting your time on all day!"

He must not have gotten past the roses line… "Yeah. You asked me to write you a poem. Right?" I ask with a cocky smirk that I always imagine looks like my brother's (It doesn't, I've checked, but I like to imagine it does anyway).

Dean wads it up and chucks it at the far wall. Seriously, I can't help but feel a little sad he didn't read it, poetry is hard and all.

"What the hell! What it getting into your food?" he snags my wrist to check my pulse and feels my forehead so I shove him away. "I'm not sick!" I snort.

"I'm not convinced, Samantha. You wrote me a p – a po… ugh! I can't believe you!" he shivers 'violently' and walks to the door.

"Where are you going?" I ask suddenly almost frantic.

"To the bar, I need a beer before I start growing boobs. Better yet, a bottle of beam!"

"But you can't, we're researching." I plead lamely.

"No, you are writing p-po…yicky! I am saving my masculinity!"

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out." I snap at his retreating back.

I might be stuck being called Samantha now I guess. He seems kinda annoyed, mostly shocked... I laugh again.

….

Wait! I shoot out of bed startled. The clocks says 3am but the light is still on. Frantically I search for my brother to find him face down, asleep over a crumpled slip of notebook paper.

He read it!

…

_Roses are red,_

_Dean is an ass_

_Some people (not me)_

_Can write poems with class_

_…_

_Let me tell you a secret,_

_It's about the hidden life of the silent guardian._

_He doesn't know I know his tale,_

_So listen close, listen now to me._

_There is a haunting shadow in the town._

_Green eyes leer from the trees._

_A shiver wracks my frame, _

_No, not a shiver of fear, but of the ghostly chill._

_Fear? What is that?_

_Never before has the cruel hand of fate shown me fear._

_Terror, yes, but terror for love, not fear._

_"Why" I hear the wind whisper to the trees_

_"Why" the brook echoes back. "Why no fear in this land of night."_

_The werewolf howls at the moon,_

_The black dog steals a child,_

_The ghost crawls out of his tomb,_

_But I am safe with him._

_This guardian of mine, I am safe with him._

_This is his greatest secret,_

_This is his greatest gift,_

_He walks in light, breaths loyalty, bleeds love._

_Hidden behind walls so hard they will not crack, but shining even so,_

_I know his greatest secret, _

_It's me._

_He is mine and I am his, and by his side, I will live._

_My guardian, my friend, my brother, my world,_

_Roses wilt and pass away,_

_Violets and tulips won't last,_

_But I won't ever fade to grey,_

_My brother holds me fast!_

_…_

_Careful what you wish for Dean, its crap, but you asked! ~Sam_

…

I slip the paper out from under his face and fold it up to set it on the side table. Just as I slide back into my own bed, the unforgettable voice of my brother slurs through the semi dark.

"You're sucha girl…"

I laugh out loud. "It was terrible!" I agree.

"Naw," he mutters. His bright emerald eyes meet mine, glinting in the lamp light. "It was fine, Sammy."

"Jerk."

"Bitch." And just like that he is out again.

I grin stupidly in the dark as I switch of the lamp. Dean is such a girl too, sometimes. And he liked my poem! HA! Oh life is such a riot.

* * *

Ahaha! What did you think? I have a feeling that Sam would be okay at poetry, but it was too much fun to write him a super bad at it.

Up next:

"Hold me Sam, that was beautiful." Thank you, YesterYearsGirl, for the idea!

Keep them coming, I am out of ideas after this.

Thanks lovies,

Kiliana


	4. Scarecrows and Brotherly Love

Haha so I had to go dig through my collection of random TV show snippits and find the right season (Netflix is my enemy where I live in the country) and watch the Episode so I could remember how the scene goes.

Here goes nothing… and everything.

It's so much fun to make Sam embarrass Dean…

Send me an idea. I finally have time to write again (YEAH!)

* * *

I hit town around nine o'clock and ditched the car just outside of the 'town limits' though this far out in the boonies I doubt they're really any kind of limits. Hiking into town was going to be a bitch, but I figured what the hell, I'd rather run my legs off then get caught in a freaky town with a stolen car. Turns out I was incredibly lucky. Had I driven I would have probably missed the orchard.

So, based on what Dean said about these people and their own personal pagan god, there was going to be a couple in the orchard tonight for a sacrifice. Well, that was clearly the orchard and I was going to find the couple. Since I was not a couple (Dean would snicker at that and call me a freak of nature) I wouldn't likely get hurt. Okay, yeah stupid reasoning, but I was going to go in anyway. Anyway, Dean was likely somewhere in there himself trying to save the poor pair of people all by himself.

I most certainly did NOT expect to find my brother tied to the tree. The panic and anger I felt when I saw the deep bleeding rope burns on his wrists from his bonds and the bruises on his face… No one hurts my brother!

Let's just say I was unusually okay with the scarecrow killing the other folks. I felt sorry for Emily – sure that's a given – but really? Your uncle and aunt try to sacrifice you? Yeah, no, so maybe I didn't feel _too _bad for Emily.

Well, we burned the tree and put Emily on the bus and called it a day.

"You think she will be okay?" I had asked my brother.

"I hope so." He replied.

Well, so he was once again ignoring my concerned gaze: I was well aware of the still raw cuts on his wrist. He seemed a little dizzy too…

"So, can I drop you off somewhere?" …trust my brother to be probably concussed, bruised, and tied up in a freaking orchard to be fed to a pagan god, and still put my needs ahead of his.

"Nah, I think you're stuck with me." I replied hoping he would read the apology in my words.

He grinned so I guessed he must have, "What made you change your mind?"

So I spelled it out for him. "I didn't. I still want to find Dad – and you're still a pain in the ass – but Mom and Jess… they're both gone. Dad is who knows where. You and me – we're all that's left. So, uh… if we are gonna see this through, we're gonna do it together." And I meant every word.

Dean had his concerned tell-me-what-happened-to-you-because-I-care-about-you-so-tell-me-all-your-troubles face on and for a moment I was taken in. That is, of course, until he lovingly patted my arm and dead panned "Hold me, Sam. That was beautiful."

I rolled me eyes with a snort and we hit the road.

That was five hours ago. We found a place to hole up and get dinner, and here we are in another crappy motel room. I am here in the bathroom reliving the past few days in my head and wishing I had stuck around so Dean wouldn't have gotten hurt.

I glance at my face in the mirror before shouldering back into the room to find my brother. He is seated cross legged on the bed he usually claims, carefully trying to wrap his wrists with one injured hand and his teeth.

"Let me." I say trapping his arms in my hands and grabbing the bandage.

"I got it." He snarls yanking back.

"Please." I try, softer this time.

He glares at me for a moment before holding out his arm grudgingly. "Fine.'

So I bandage them with as much care as I possibly can. He is yawning before I am finished.

"Hey." I say gently, drawing his now groggy eyes back to mine. "How hard did you get hit?"

He offers me his cocky grin but no answer so I try again. "Dean. Seriously, I need to know if your head is alright or if I need to wake you up."

His grin falters. "I'm fine."

"Your bruise there says differently." I retort pointing at his face.

"It's lying." he retorts.

"You're lying." I retort back in the exact same voice.

"Wake me once and then leave me alone. Got it?" he snaps and pushes me away.

I sit down one my own bed and open the laptop while he goes to sleep. I'll wake him in about two hours.

So now I'm left thinking to myself in the quiet room… which is sometimes a bad thing…

Dean clearly got knocked out and tied up to a tree and I wasn't there to watch his back. That was definitely a mistake that I won't be making again.

I glance over at my brother and notice with some alarm that his arm is curled protectively across his chest and his breathing is rather shallow.

Without making any noise I lift the hem of his shirt quickly and gasp.

"Hands off, Samantha." He snorts sleepily batting at my hands.

"Dean!" I exclaim rather hotly. "What the hell is this?" his chest is a mass of bruises, a watercolor of blacks, greens, and purples. He glares at me and tugs his shirt down, very much awake now.

"Leave me alone. I'm fine."

I step back and raise my hands. "I know you are, moron. You're always fine. I just wish I knew what happened."

"Dude, you left me. It's not my fault you weren't there to watch first hand." He snarls back.

I rub a weary hand over my face and move to sit beside him - brilliant idea in full swing. Hey, it's his fault he ever even suggested this.

"Look, you're stuck with me now, okay? And I just want to make sure you're not hurt because you're my big brother and I care about you." Dean is looking at me like I suddenly just grew another head or something. "And just to prove it to you..." I begin before basically tackling him and smothering him against my chest.

Dean is four years older than me and has been hunting for at least fourteen years longer than I have. So what, I have four inches on him? Yeah, well he certainly has no problem ever winning in a fight. My hug quickly turns into a wrestling match that he wins when he pins me against the wall.

"Christo." He heaves through panting breaths. I laugh.

"Dude, I'm still Sam." I grunt.

"What the Hell was that?" he says releasing me at last and stepping back with one hand once again wrapped around his chest.

Too late I remember his bruises chest. "I'm such an idiot!" I snap thwacking my head against the wall behind me. "Your ribs!"

Dean grins at that. "I'm fine Sammy."

"It's Sam!"

"Sammmmmmmmy! What the hell was that anyway?" he uncomfortably sits down on his bed keeping a careful eye on me.

"Hey, you told me to hug you in the parking lot earlier." I reply offhandedly and crawl into my own bed. I really can't keep the grin off my face when he blinks at me in shock.

"Really? _That _is what this is all about?"

"Goodnight Dean." I retort smoothly and wait until his breathing finally evens out. Patiently I count the minutes of the next hour. Time to wake Dean up to check his brain out after all the banging around it took earlier… and I know just how to do it.

My big tough bring-em-hell brother startles awake with an undignified squawk to find himself once again smothered in my arms against my T-shirt.

"Sam!" he snorts trying to unlock his arms from my hands so that he can get away.

"Where are were?" after all I _am _checking his brain…

"Hell if I care! Let go of me." Ah yeah he is fine. But… It's kinda fun to see him squirm.

"What is your name."

"git'off!" he snaps.

"Hum… nope. That's wrong. I think you might be daft in the hea– oof!" Well, he got his wrists back, I got an impromptu date with the floor, and all is well in Winchester land once again.

I grin up at him from way down here. "Night Dean."

He grumbles something about bowie knives and annoying little brothers.

Two hours later…

"SAM!"

Hell yes!

* * *

So… what did you think? Too ridiculous? Got any more ideas?

I am SO going to do the braiding hair idea next (thank you pryde23) It is about time that Dean gets some revenge…

Thanks!

~Kiliana


	5. Hey Sister

So I finally got moved (mostly) still have boxes lying around in every nook and cranny. Aaah. Such a big job.

Anyway. I have a break from school, and I have time to write. For those of you following it, I am finishing Sam's Brother and revising it as we speak, hopefully I'll have it ready to post again soon. Sorry for my sudden vanishing act. Full time school and work leaves little time for writing and I have a huge amount of season 10 to catch up on, so… Sing hey for Season 11, go buy a support JaredJensen shirt at represent jaredjensen if you haven't already and if you're into that kind of thing. ANYWAY here we go, I've got another chapter I'm about to post. Any more ideas anyone?

I am glad you guys are liking this story. I'm enjoying it. Hang on, I'm just getting ahead in all my writing so I dont have to leave my stories hanging when I start publishing again.

This is gonna be from Dean's POV

~Kiliana

* * *

Sam sacked out so fast I was afraid he wasn't gonna make it all the way to the bed. As it is, he is hanging half off the bed with muddy boots sprawled every which-way and his crazy brown mop stiff with dirt and sweat. So much for a shower.

So I get one instead. And hey, I like this deal! Hot water and no whiny-ass brother. I could make this work.

I feel so much better after my shower I actually feel human again. Imagine that.

With 'careful' and 'considerate' 'nudges' and 'pats,' I finally get Sam to crack his eyes open.

"Wakeym wakey eggs 'n' bakey."

"Wh't." he growls up at me, not that he has _ever _been intimidating.

"You stink! …and you look like a walking cadaver straight out of Frankenstein's lab." I retort because, well, I can.

Sam screws up his face and sticks out his tongue and eww, that's so gross, his lips and face prolly taste like rot. "Screw you." He whines.

"Nah, I pass." I reply nudging him 'gently' the rest of the way off the bed. "That's no fun."

"Wait, you called me a cadaver?" He asks clearly lagging several minutes behind in the conversation and he rubbed the dirt and what looked suspiciously like snot around his face.

"Yep. You know: Cadaver, corpse, stiff, carcass, c-"

"Dude, I know what a cadaver is, I just didn't realize you did."

"Geez, I'm not an idiot Sammy. Get in the freaking shower already."

So he lugs his Sasquatch body over the bathroom and vanishes through the door for the next half hour.

It was three days ago when the little (big) brat decided to spontaneously keep me up all night with bear hugs. Four before that since he wrote me a love poem. I had revenge to plot. Any self-respecting man has to revenge himself of little brother chick-flick moments. So… naturally, I have revenge to plot.

Not sure yet what. But I'll figure it out pretty soon.

SPN

Sam is sacked out again. This time at least he is under the covers and clean and damp from the shower.

I roll out of my own bed and creep silently to the head of his. Once, Dad (whose praise was rarer then diamonds) had told me that when I wanted to be silent, even he couldn't hear me. That was saying something.

Not that I had anything about which to worry. Sam probably wouldn't wake even if I bought a drum set at this very moment and started to play along with Zep on it. He was dead to the word.

Quickly and skillfully I work. I'm not sure what will give him a heart attack first, that I am doing this to him, or that I know _how _to do this to him.

In and out, in and out. Over and around and back again.

Next I open my bag and pull out my hidden stash of trophies. Several cosmetics later… the lamp goes off and I get back in bed. Ah sweet revenge.

SPN

"DEAN!" Sam's horrified shriek greets me. He woke up about five minutes ago muttering something about coffee and _shut-up Dean_, although I hadn't said anything. I shoved everything in my bag just as fast as possible this morning and now I was completely ready to hit to road so I merely chuckled when he yelled.

"What?" I call back to the bathroom as I silently inch my way to the door.

"What the Hell have you done to my hair!" he bellows flinging open the door and stepping out. I can't help it, I laugh hard enough to fall back against the wall. My eyes feel wet.

"Sa_man_tha!" I put the perfect amount of I'm-impressed in my voice and tack a cat-call on the end.

"Shut-Up!" he snarls. It's too perfect.

Sammy, standing before me with blue eye shadow and blood red lipstick. The mascara is a bit smeared but what can I say, he rubs his eyes every morning. The kicker is his hair though. It is braided in two five-strand French braids to the nape of his neck where I combined them into a very small bun.

"What's the occasion?" I ask still feigning being overcome by sheer beauty. "Did I forget our anniversary?" (Some people classify this as poking the mad dog, I call it sweet revenge.)

"I'm going to kill you!" he thunders. I laugh and jump backwards through the door as he comes at me.

"Oh really dear sister? Cause you'd have to come out here to do that." I laugh (I'm brilliant and so dead…)

"Coward!" he spits back staying within the shadow of the room.

"Take some Midal Samantha dear, Find a heating pad. You'll feel better in a few hours." He is probably right and it is a cowards approach to run away to the store for breakfast, but I'm not sticking around for the next few hours to let him kill me while he tries to figure out how to get the braids out. I used basically a whole tube of freeze gel on him.

I'm so evil.

I'm so dead.

SPN

Sam greets me with wet loose hair and a snake-worthy smile as I hand him his rabbit food breakfast and coffee.

"Thanks Dean." He purrs through his honeyed-forked tongue.

"Oh hey brother. How are you this morning?" I feign ignorance back.

"Peachy." He replied edging past me to close the door. I turn with him, keeping him in front of me and back carefully into a chair at the table.

"No nightmares?" I ask innocently.

"Nope." He replies letting his bottom lip stick out and giving me puppy eyes.

Hah. No way am I letting my guard down now.

"Thanks for the coffee though." He amends and goes to his bed with the cup. "So considerate of you to do that. I'm surprised you were up early enough to get out before I was up."

"Oh you know, just wanted to do something nice for my baby brother." I reply with a careless toss of my hands.

"Right." He drawls and pulls out his computer. "Looks like there is another hunt up in Wisconsin. Bobby called while you were out-" I make a mental note to call Bobby and see if Sam is telling the truth or planning revenge "-So I figured we might as well hit to road."

"Sure." I replied nonchalantly "I'm gonna checkup Baby and make sure she's ready to hit to road."

"You do that." He replies in a sinister sounding tone.

SPN

"Hey Bobby."

"Boy, what the hell you do to your brother?"

I chuckle at that, albeit uncomfortably. "What did he say?"

"Nothing, but he was blowing his smoke-stack when I called earlier."

"So you did call?"

"Yeah and he ranted about evil older brothers for several minutes before I got a word in edgewise."

"I might have braid'd'is'air last night." I confess really softly after a minute.

"You WHAT?"

"Braid'd'is'air." I mumble again.

"Braided his… Oh, for the love of Pete!" he swears under his breath and I grin again.

"He was asking for it, been tucking me in and writing poetry for days. I figured if he was going to act like a girl, he should look like one too."

I can practically hear Bobby roll his eyes. "Will you two ever grow up?"

"Bobby, I'm twenty-seven."

"Act like it."

"But that's no fun!"

"Balls, you boys are gonna be the death of me."

"You're welcome." I can't help but sound smug. "So is there really a hunt in Wisconsin?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Nothing."

"Humf. You think your brother is trying to prank you back?"

"Well, he does have a good reason to."

"Whatever." He growls fondly over the line and I almost laugh.

"Bye old man." I hang up on him before he can retort anything, cause, knowing Booby, he'll call me an idjit at the least.

"Hey Sam, get your ass in gear." I holler as I go back into the room.

"My ass is in gear." He bellows from the bathroom and, that's just gross.

"You're disgusting!" I yell back.

"Learned from the best." He snickers. When he finally does make an appearance, and his bag joins mine in the trunk… I just can't help myself.

"Hey Sammy."

"It's Sam."

"Whatever, I think you did something to your face, you have some back and blue smudges around your eyes."

"I hate you."

"No you don't."

And we're off.

* * *

Haha, I love evil big brothers. Sam revenge up next and its longer.

Reviews my Dears?

Thanks Lovies

~Liana


	6. Revenge is Bitter-sweet

So this was all really unexpected. I sorta let my muse take over so hopefully it is not junk. Let me know what you think for sure. I like it when Dean shows his not so big-bad-brother-who-can't-be-hurt side. I also love Sam!angst. And I am a sucker for it being Sam who does the Dean hurting (not on purpose, nothing bad, just realizing that he hurts Dean more than he realizes) so in other words…. Read this and make sense of this author's note after.

Sweet revenge is this. Dean just braided Sam's hair, right? So now it is Sam's turn to get Dean back?

This is also at least twice as long as my usual chapters for this story. :)

Enjoy

~Kiliana

* * *

The hunt went well. Dean, par his usual 'let's-protect-Sammy-from-anything-and-everything-mentality' took the brunt of the attack and consequently is currently conked out in the passenger seat of his beloved baby while I do the driving. The dork. Not that he is horribly hurt (or I am horribly sympathetic) there was no need whatsoever for him to jump between me and that monster. I had it in my sights! Sheesh the jerk. So he got a nice new set of scars to add to his collection because he had to play hero.

He braided my hair yesterday morning. He braided it. HOW THE HELL does he know how to do a five strand French Braid?! If I wasn't so annoyed I would be seriously impressed, although I am too terrified to ask where he learned. My brother may never stop surprising me. But still… braided my hair…

"Wake up, Dean." I shout pulling open his door and dumping him on the pavement on his side.

"Damn it Sammy!" he squawks flailing on his way down and landing with a grunt. "Injured here."

"Yeah, yeah. Just a little bit of blood loss." I reply grabbing my bag and leaving him on his side. I love my brother, I really do… but the jerk deserves to lay there this time.

He flounders for a while struggling to get to his feet while I lug my bag (and his, though I tell him I didn't) into the new motel room. As I watch him wince and pale with the effort to rise, I almost relent and help him, but his lips are still in a determined line of self-reliance. Honestly, it almost makes me sick to leave him there, but he _did _braid my hair.

Standing at the door to the room again I watch him try to get up. His arms and legs are shaky and he can't seem to lever himself more than eighteen inches off the ground before collapsing again. _Maybe the brainless jackass is hurt more than he is letting on_, I think to myself, chewing on my bottom lip.

"Dean?" I ask approaching him.

"Ummmf!" he grunt and rolls over on his back and points up at me. "I'm good." He says rather breathlessly.

"Yeah right!" I retort. "Fine. Get yourself in here then." And I shut the door leaving him outside again.

I pace for fifteen minutes putting stuff away and trying not to go back to the door before I finally cave and wench it open. Dean promptly collapses on me, panting and nearly unconscious.

"Dean!" I shout in surprise and catch him before he hits the carpet. He mumbles something unintelligible as I lever him up and lug him to the bed. "M-may-made it to the d-door." He stutters at last.

"You are impossible and you are so not okay. Lay there. Don't move. I'm gonna check you out."

"Kinky Sammy. but I don't swing that way." He mumbles grinning cheekily at me.

"Shut up."

So it appears that Dean really is only suffering from significant blood loss and is drifting in and out of consciousness.

Looking down at his pale freckled face… I do it because I can.

"Hew wittle baby!" I coo in my most annoying nursery voice as I pull off his boots. "No cwy. I'm wight hewe and I am not gowin nowhewe. Monstas wont get you tonight wittle one." He cracks his eyes open and delivers an unexpectedly hard cuff on my ear.

"Shut up." He growls.

"Now, now, that's no way to behave." I sing-song back and peel his jacket off. It is a testament to how dizzy he feels and how much blood he has lost that he can't do anything about it. Of course a moment after I think this, he knees me in the side of my leg hard enough to leave a bruise. "Dang woman!" I squawk rubbing my leg and thumping his head back before I slip back into my little character.

"Hush wittle baby, don't say a wowd. Sammy's gonna buy you a wittle black dog. If that that wittle dog bites your back, Sammy's gonna buy you Plakavac, if it won't stop screaming at you, Sammy's gonna buy you a Rogaru, If he turns into a wolf, Sammy's gonna buy you a short fat dwarf, if that fat dwarf cannot see, Sammy gonna buy you an Ushi-oni, if that Ushi-Oni wont grow, you'll stiww be the stupidest baby I know." I sang badly as I pulled the blankets up to his neck and tucked him in.

As much as I could tell his wanted to snap at what I was doing, I could tell he wanted to know where the hell I was going with this spontaneous version of"hush little baby." Caught somewhere between amusement, annoyance and exhaustion, he simply laid there and stared at me, emerald green eyes glittering wide in horror.

Hah score.

So I finish tucking him in, and press my luck by kissing his forehead, which earns me a growl and uncomfortable shift underneath where I have him trapped by blankets. I have him… trapped.

In a flash I have him straddled with my knees holding the blankets on either side of his chest and trapped arms. He is swaddled to his neck and won't be going anywhere before I let him.

"Hah! I got you stuck!" I shout gleefully and his bright green eyes go comically wide.

"Get off." He gasps struggling even more against me.

"Nah, I think it is about payback time for a little hair braiding you did yesterday." I say carelessly ignoring his struggles.

"What, putting me through your horrible singing wasn't enough?" He snarls though I can see the well veiled panic building at his helplessness. Really it is horribly mean of me to take advantage of his weakness and compromised situation, but who cares.

I snag the ink pen off the lamp side table and bend over until my nose is touching his.

"Paybacks big brother." I chuckle. He squirms more furiously.

"Get off Sam." Okay, he sounds a bit more desperate this time.

"Nah." I proceed to hold his head with one hand and write "I love Sam." Across his forehead with my other hand.

"Stop it!" he snarls trying to wrench his head away from my pen as his breathing speeds up against my hand.

"Dude, you're gonna mess it up." I reply easily and then sit back up. "Night Deanie." I chuckle petting his hair with one hand while I flip off the light.

"Are you gonna get off me?" He asks again in his deadly soft warning tone despite the rapid twitching of his body and the breathlessness of his voice.

"Nope." I ignore it. "I can be as chick-flicky as I want to at the moment and you can't do a thing." That's true for a minute while I sit on him in the dark for a few minutes feeling his growing restlessness beneath me. In the end I am wrong, though, because he finally pulls the covers loose over his feet and starts to try and knee me off. I laugh leaning forward over his head out of reach of his legs and press a nice long kiss to his hair.

"Sam." He gasps. "Please." His voice cracks which startles me and I know my brother doesn't do pleading.

Sitting up I look down at him. His eyes are huge in the faint light so I decided I've got him well enough for now.

"Good nice sweet pea." And I flee as fast as possible to the bathroom and lock the door laughing.

Fully expecting the door to be assaulted by angry brother any moment, I sober immediately a few minutes later when I hear the door going outside click shut. My idiot of a brother better not have wondered off on a low tank of blood because he is pissed at me – which I am sure he is.

I unlock the door and peak out. He is nowhere to be seen and suddenly I am ridiculously mad again.

Storming to the door yank it open and step out. He is not outside, he is not in the car… he is not at the vending machine. He is not around back.

Worried I run back around into the room and check frantically.

"Dean?" I yell stepping back out. "Come on, I'm sorry. You're scaring me!"

There is no answer. Damnit Sam. Why the hell did you have to provoke him like that? If there is one thing my brother hate it is being helpless, trapped. Years ago Dean got locked in a closet by a ghost for hours and when Dad and I found him he was freaked out to incoherency and wouldn't stop fighting Dad until he slapped him several times to snap him out of it. He always freaks out violently when he is trapped and helpless. Dad told me once that Dean had mild claustrophobia and I had no idea what that meant at the time but suddenly the memory assaults me with vivid clarity.

_"Snap out of it Dean." Dad shouted at the wild cat he had pinned to the floor before slapping him sharply across the face. I could only stand and stare at my invincible brother thrashing incoherently on the floor. He was pale and thin from days of starvation in the dark and his filthy clothes reeked. As soon as Dad had dragged him out of the room and into the light and he was suddenly not crammed in a two square foot closet, he had gone crazy gulping in long breathes of air like a drowned man and fighting Dad with all the strength left in his starved limbs. "What's wrong with him Dad?" I whisper when he finally falls limp on the floor still whimpering. "Panic attack." Dad replied softly as his gathered my brother up against his chest and headed back to the car with me trailing behind. "Why panic, we saved him?" I asked again. "Dean has claustrophobia." Dad replied helpfully. "What's that mean?" "He is terrified of small spaces and being trapped. He replied and I immediately discounted his words, Dean wasn't scared of anything. _

In hindsight though I could see how whenever he would get trapped helplessly in a dark closed space he would react violently and I always thought that was Dean being an idiot, maybe Dad was right. I am such an idiot to forget that and use it against him.

No wonder he is pissed. I sat on him and tormented him in the dark on purpose exploiting his injuries against him. I basically just stepped over every single line Dean ever made and ignored him completely. Even the fact that I could see his terror, veiled as it was, should have stopped me. Dean never shows fear at all, and I had him terrified irrationally because I had him trapped wounded beneath me.

"Idiot, idiot, idiot." I berate himself checking in the car and working myself into a frenzy of panic. "I'm the worst brother in the world. I was supposed to get revenge for a prank, not drive my claustrophobic, overly protective, completely self-reliant brother to panic.

"Dean!" I yell again heedless of whether or not anyone is nearby who I might be waking. "Dean, I'm sorry. I was stupid and completely out of line."

"Dude, there a problem?" the very sleepy annoyed motel owner stalks out of the office with a shot gun.

"Uhhh, no sir." I answer backing towards my room.

"Shut-up and take your domestic back inside or I'm calling the cops." He snaps and goes back to bed.

There aren't many places Dean could have gone, and in his weakened state he couldn't have gone far, so I glance around head for the field lightly peppered with round hay bales.

Sure enough I find my brother pale and clammy hunched on the far side of one light up by the moon. In the silver light his face almost glows.

"Dean?" I ask timidly, keeping my distance since I'm the one who sparked this panic-driven escape.

"Sammy." He replies breathlessly and I take that as an 'it's-okay-to-sit-down' sort of comment.

"Hey." I ease myself down beside my unusually skittish brother. It is terrifying to see him like this, nothing ever phases Dean and I am guessing that if I had pinned him when he was not injured it would have been fine since he would've at least had a fighting chance.

"Hey." He echoes back.

"You okay?" I ask preparing myself for his usual smart-aleck comeback.

But his bull is gone. "Not really." He laughs unsteadily back.

"I'm sorry." I say at last brushing my shoulder against his.

"S'good." He mumbles back.

We sit there perfectly silent for a few minutes before I say anything. "Wanna go back inside."

The reaction is almost instantaneous. He jerks abruptly and clenches his hand. "You gonna sit on me again." He forces out through clenched teeth.

"No!" I almost shout before softening my tone quickly. "Definitely not, I'm sorry I was completely out of line."

He shrugs and loosens his tight muscles a bit but doesn't move or answer. So with nothing better to do, I use the sleeve of my hoodie and the dew on the ground to wipe the ink off his forehead as best as I can. His green eyes are almost glowing in the light, I vaguely wonder if mine are glowing too before offering him my hand to pull him to his feet. He sways dizzily beside me before I secure his arm across my shoulder and head back to the room. For having lost as much blood as he did, he made it a good way out here.

We get back to the room and make it about two steps inside before he wrenches away from me and stumbles back through the door. "Damnit." He breathes dropping against the wall.

"Dean?" I ask worriedly hurrying after him. I crouch in front of him and tilt his chin up to bring his eyes to mine. "What's wrong?"

"I – I – I can't breathe – not in there Sammy."

"You've never had a problem before." I state gently.

"Can't, don't want to be trapped again." He growls.

"I won't trap you, I promise." I reply, remorse hardening in the pit of my stomach.

"I know. I just – I can't…" he looks helplessly at the door his green eyes huge and his face looking younger than ever.

I get it. Jess once explained to me that once someone has reacted via their phobia to someplace, it is incredibly difficult to overcome. People with arachnophobia have trouble reentering a room that had spiders in it even after the spiders have all been killed. Dean was reacting to his claustrophobia and even though there was no rational fear left, he couldn't relax. So I left him there and went to get his pillow off the bed and the car keys. I lugged him across to the car and dumped him in the back. "Sleep here then, okay?" I said climbing in the front and pushing him back down when he tried to protest.

"No, Is'kay, I'll go back in the room, I just need a minute."

"Dean." I reply firmly. "Go to sleep." He grumbled a moment more before dropping off soundly. It's not really cold but it's cool enough that I go back to get both blankets and my own pillow before covering him and settling myself down in the passenger side. My neck is going to hate me in the morning, but it's as much as I deserve for tormenting my big brother.

"Sweet dreams, Dean-o." I whisper.

"Girl." He mumbles back sleepily.

SPN

* * *

So what did you think? Yes I wrote the lullaby to the tune of Hush Little Baby Don't say a Word, perks to you if you know what the creatures are and why the lyrics work for them.

After I finished the lullaby was sorta when my brain shut down and my fingers took off after my wayward muse and things got a little crazy. But hey, I'm good with crazy, I love crazy!

Reviews are a huge plus. not what you were expecting? Somehow I switched from humor and family to angst and hurt/comfort there for a while. I'll have funny back next chapter.

What should I do next? Yesteryearsgirl mentioned the scene after everybody loves a clown with Dean's snark about the slow dance, I may give that a try.

Stay Awesome,

Thanks Lovies

~Liana


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